Biting the Hand

Twinned, these mouths with wooden words
Punch holes in fragile egos
Bite down on stray thoughts
The social faux pas
Refuse to yield ground
With crimsoned lips pursed
In moral superiority
As conversations branch
Into a quagmire
And the little man
Hasn’t twigged
Until he hears their laughter
Turns to see the sneers
But gets his revenge
When he spits in their food
And bites the hand that feeds